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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap. Copyriglit No. 

Shelf ' A' ^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



New York Nocturnes 

And Other Poems 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 



VERSE : 

Orion and Other Poems. {Out of Print.) 

Lippincott, 
In Divers Tones. D. Lothrop Co. 
Songs of the Common Day. Longmans, 

Green 6^ Co. 
The Book of the Native. Lamson, Wolfe 

&> Co. 

PROSE : 

The Canadians of Old. From the French of 

de Gasp6. D. Appleton &> Co. 
Around the Camp Fire, T. Y. Crowell &■ Co. 
Earth's Enigmas. Lamson, Wolffe 6- Co. 
A History of Canada. Lamson, Wolffe &• Co. 
The Forge in the Forest. Lamson, Wolffe 

&> Co. 
A Sister to Evangeline. A Romance of Old 

Acadia. (/« Press.) Lamson, Wolffe &= Co. 



New York Nocturnes 

And Other Poems 

By / 
Charles Q^fVi, Roberts 



VTCRESCIT 




Lamson, Wolffe and Company 

Boston, New York and London 



MDCCCXCVIII 






9»b4 

Copyright, 1898, 
By Lamson, Wolffe and Company. 



All rights reserved. 




TWOCOPIE 



N^o^S^V 



2r> 



THE IDEAL 

To Her, when life was little worth. 

When hope, a tide run low, 
Betxveen dim shores of emptiness 
Almost forgot to flow, — 

Faint with the city's fume and stress 

I came at night to Her. 
Her cool white fingers on my face — 

How wonderful they were ! 

More dear they were to fevered lids 
Than lilies cooled in dew. 

They touched my lips with tenderness. 
Till life was born anew. 

The city's clamour died in calm. ; 

And once again I heard 
The moon-white zvoodland stillnesses 

Enchanted by a bird ; 

The wash of far, remembered waves ; 

The sigh of lapsing streams ; 
And one old garden's lilac leaves 

Conferring in their dreams. 

A breath from childhood daisy fields 

Came back to me again. 
Here in the city's weary miles 

Of city-wearied men. 



CONTENTS 

NEW YORK NOCTURNES 

PAGE 

The Ideal 5 

In the Crowd 9 

Night in a Down-town Street ...... 10 

At the Railway Station . ". . , . . • 13 

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle, I 16 

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle, II 17 

My Garden 18 

Presence 21 

Twilight on Sixth Avenue . , . . . .22 

The Street Lamps . . . . . . . .24 

In Darkness 25 

In the Solitude of the City 26 

A Nocturne of Exile 28 

A Street Vigil . .30 

A Nocturne of Trysting ....... 32 

In a City Room 34 

A Nocturne of Consecration 36 



Contents 



OTHER POEMS 

PAGB 

An Evening Communion 45 

Life and Art 48 

Beyond the Tops of Time ...... 49 

Dream-Fellows 55 

The Atlantic Cable 61 

When the Clover Blooms Again 63 

At Tide Water 65 

The Falling Leaves 67 

Marjory 68 

The Solitary Woodsman 72 

The Stirrup Cup ....,,.. 77 

Ice 78 

The Hermit 79 

" O Thou who bidd'st " .82 

Ascription , . .83 



New York Nocturnes 

^il 0co(, t(s apa Kvirpks, r[ t(s V'|iicpo$, rovSe |vvTJ\|iaTo; 



New York Nocturnes 



In the Crowd 

I walk the city square with thee. 

The night is loud; the pavements roar. 
Their eddying mirth and misery 
Encircle thee and me. 

The street is full of lights and cries. 

The crowd but brings thee close to me. 
I only hear thy low replies; 
I only see thine eyes. 



Night in a Down-town Street 

Not in the eyed, expectant gloom, 

Where soaring peaks repose 
And incommunicable space 

Companions with the snows; 

Not in the glimmering dusk that crawls 

Upon the clouded sea. 
Where bourneless wave on bourneless wave 

Complains continually; 



ID 



Night in a Down-town Street 

Not in the palpable dark of woods 
Where groping hands clutch fear, 

Does Night her deeps of solitude 
Reveal unveiled as here. 

The street is a grim canon carved 

In the eternal stone, 
That knows no more the rushing stream 

It anciently has known. 

The emptying tide of life has drained 

The iron channel dry. 
Strange winds from the forgotten day 

Draw down, and dream, and sigh. 



II 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

The narrow heaven, the desolate moon 
Made wan with endless years, 

Seem less immeasurably remote 
Than laughter, love, or tears. 



12 



At the Railway Station 

Here the night is fierce with light, 
Here the great wheels come and go, 

Here are partings, waitings, meetings. 
Mysteries of joy and woe. 

Here is endless haste and change. 
Here the ache of streaming eyes. 

Radiance of expectant faces, 
Breathless askings, brief replies. 



13 



Neiv York Nocturnes and other Poems 

Here the jarred, tumultuous air 
Throbs and pauses like a bell, 

Gladdens with delight of greeting, 
Sighs and sorrows with farewell. 

Here, ah, here with hungry eyes 
I explore the passing throng. 

Restless I await your coming 
Whose least absence is so long. 

Faces, faces pass me by, 

Meaningless, and blank, and dumb. 
Till my heart grows faint and sickens 

Lest at last you should not come. 



14 



At the Railway Station 

Then — I see you. And the blood 
Surges back to heart and brain. 

Eyes meet mine, — and Heaven opens. 
You are at my side again. 



15 



Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle 



Forever shed your sweetness on the night, 
Dear honeysuckle, flower of our delight! 

Forever breathe the mystery of that hour 
When her hand touched me, lightlier than a 
flower, — 

And life became forever strange and sweet, 
A gift to lay with worship at her feet. 



i6 



Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle 



II 

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle, 

Tell me how often the long night through 
She turns in her dream to the open window, 

She turns in her dream to you. 

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle. 

Tell me how tenderly out of the dew 

You breathe her a dream of that night of wonder 
When life was fashioned anew. 

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle. 

Tell me how long ere, the sweet night through. 
She will turn not to you but to me in the darkness. 

And dream and desire come true. 



17 



My Garden 

I have a garden in the city's grime 

Where secretly my heart keeps summer time; 

Where blow such airs of rapture on my eyes 
As those blest dreamers know in Paradise, 

Who after lives of longing come at last 
Where anguish of vain love is overpast. 

When the broad noon lies shadeless on the street, 
And traffic roars, and toilers faint with heat. 

Where men forget that ever woods were green, 
The wonders of my garden are not seen. 



i8 



My Garden 

Only at night the magic doors disclose 
Its labyrinths of lavender and rose; 

And honeysuckle, white beneath its moon, 
Whispers me softly thou art coming soon; 

And led by Love's white hand upon my wrist 
Beside its glimmering fountains I keep tryst. 

O Love, this moving fragrance on my hair, — 
Is it thy breath, or some enchanted air 

From far, uncharted realms of mystery 

Which I have dreamed of but shall never see? 

O Love, this low, wild music in my ears, 
Is it the heart-beat of thy hopes and fears. 



19 



New York Nocturnes mtd Other Poems 

Or the faint cadence of some fairy song 
On winds of boyhood memory blown along? 

O Love, what poignant ecstasy is this 

Upon my lips and eyes ? Thy touch, — thy kiss. 



20 



Presence 

Dawn like a lily lies upon the land 
Since I have known the whiteness of your hand. 
Dusk is more soft and more mysterious where 
Breathes on my eyes the perfume of your hair. 
Waves at your coming break in livelier blue; 
And solemn woods are glad because of you. 
Brooks of your laughter learn their liquid notes. 
Birds to your voice attune their pleading throats. 
Fields to your feet grow smoother and more green; 
And happy blossoms tell where you have been. 



21 



Twilight on Sixth Avenue 



Over the tops of the houses 

Twilight and sunset meet. 
The green, diaphanous dusk 

Sinks to the eager street. 

Astray in the tangle of roofs 

Wanders a wind of June. 
The dial shines in the clock-tower 

Like the face of a strange-scrawled moon. 



22 



Twilight on Sixth Avenue 

The narrowing lines of the houses 

Palely begin to gleam, 
And the hurrying crowds fade softly 

Like an army in a dream. 

Above the vanishing faces 

A phantom train flares on 
With a voice that shakes the shadows, — 

Diminishes, and is gone. 

And I walk with the journeying throng 

In such a solitude 
As where a lonely ocean 

Washes a lonely wood. 



23 



The Street Lamps 

Eyes of the city, 
Keeping your sleepless watch from sun to sun, 

Is it for pity 
You tremble, seeing innocence undone; 

Or do you laugh, to think men thus should set 
Spies on the folly day would fain forget? 



24 



In Darkness 

I have faced life with courage, — but not now! 

O Infinite, in this darkness draw thou near. 
Wisdom alone I asked of thee, but thou 

Hast crushed me with the awful gift of fear. 



25 



In the Solitude of the City 

Night; and the sound of voices in the street. 
Night; and the happy laughter where they meet, 

The glad boy lover and the trysting girl. 
But thou — but thou — I cannot find thee, Sweet ! 

Night; and far off the lighted pavements roar. 
Night; and the dark of sorrow keeps my door. 
I reach my hand out trembling in the dark. 
Thy hand comes not with comfort any more. 



26 



In the Solitude of the City 

O Silent, Unresponding ! If these fears 
Lie not, nor other wisdom come with years, 
No day shall dawn for me without regret, 
No night go uncompanioned by my tears. 



27 



A Nocturne of Exile 

Out of this night of lonely noise, 

The city's crowded cries, 
Home of my heart, to thee, to thee 

I turn my longing eyes. 

Years, years, how many years I went 

In exile wearily. 
Before I lifted up my face 

And saw my home in thee. 



28 



A Nocturne of Exile 

I had come home to thee at last. 

I saw thy warm lights gleam. 
I entered thine abiding joy, — 

Oh, was it but a dream? 

Ere I could reckon with my heart 

The sum of our delight, 
I was an exile once again 

Here in the hasting night. 

Thy doors were shut; thy lights were gone 
From my remembering eyes. — 

Only the city's endless throng! 
Only the crowded cries! 



29 



A Street Vigil 

Here is the street 

Made holy by the passing of her feet, — 

The little, tender feet, more sweet than myrrh, 
Which I have washed with tears for love of her. 

Here she has gone 

Until the very stones have taken on 

A glory from her passing, and the place 
Is tremulous with memory of her face. 



30 



A Street Vigil 

4 

Here is the room 

That holds the light to lighten all my gloom. 
Beyond that blank white window she is sleeping 
Who hath my hope, my health, my fame, in keep- 
ing. 

A little peace 

Here for a little, ere my vigil cease 

And I turn homeward, shaken with the strife 
Of hope that struggles hopeless, sick for life. 

Surely the power 

That lifted me from darkness that one hour 
To a dear heaven whereof no word can tell 
Not wantonly will thrust me back to hell. 



31 



A Nocturne of Trysting 

Broods the hid glory in its sheath of gloom 

Till strikes the destined hour, and bursts the 

bloom, 
A rapture of white passion and perfume. 

So the long day is like a bud 

That aches with coming bliss, 
Till flowers in light the wondrous night 

That brings me to thy kiss. 



32 



A Nocturne of Trysting 

Then, with a thousand sorrows forgotten in one 
hour, 
In thy pure eyes and at thy feet I find at last 
my goal; 
And life and hope and joy seem but a faint pre- 
vision 
Of the flower that is thy body and the flame 
that is thy soul. 



33 



In a City Room 

O city night of noises and alarms, 

Your lights may flare, your cables clang and 
rush. 
But in the sanctuary of my love's arms 

Your blinding tumult dies into a hush. 

My doors are surged about with your unrest; 

Your plangent cares assail my realm of peace; 
But when I come unto her quiet breast 

How suddenly your jar and clamor cease! 



34 



In a City Room 

Then even remembrance of your strifes and pains 
Diminishes to a ghost of sorrows gone, 

Remoter than a dream of last year's rains 
Gusty against my window in the dawn. 



35 



A Nocturne of Consecration 

I talked about you, Dear, the other night, 
Having myself alone with my delight. 
Alone with dreams and memories of you, 
All the divine-houred summer stillness through 
I talked of life, of love the always new. 
Of tears, and joy, — yet only talked of you. 

To the sweet air 

That breathed upon my face 

The spirit of lilies in a leafy place. 

Your breath's caress, the lingering of your hair, 

I said — " In all your wandering through the dusk, 



36 



A Nocturne of Consecration 

Your waitings on the marriages of flowers 
Through the long, intimate hours 
When soul and sense, desire and love confer. 
You must have known the best that God has made. 
What do you know of Her?" 

Said the sweet air — 

"Since I have touched her lips, 

Bringing the consecration of her kiss, 

Half passion and half prayer. 

And all for you, 

My various lore has suffered an eclipse. 

I have forgot all else of sweet I knew." 

To the wise earth, 

Kind, and companionable, and dewy cool. 



37 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

Fair beyond words to tell, as you are fair, 

And cunning past compare 

To leash all heaven in a windless pool, 

I said — "The mysteries of death and birth 

Are in your care. 

You love, and sleep; you drain life to the lees; 

And wonderful things you know. 

Angels have visited you, and at your knees 

Learned what I learn forever at her eyes, 

The pain that still enhances Paradise. 

You in your breast felt her first pulses stir; 

And you have thrilled to the light touch of her 

feet, 
Blindingly sweet. 
Now make me wise with some new word of Her." 



Z^ 



A Nocturne of Consecration 

Said the wise earth — 

"She is not all my child. 

But the wild spirit that rules her heart-beats wild 

Is of diviner birth 

And kin to the unknown light beyond my ken. 

All I can give to Her have I not given? 

Strength to be glad, to suffer, and to know; 

The sorcery that subdues the souls of men; 

The beauty that is as the shadow of heaven; 

The hunger of love 

And unspeakable joy thereof. 

And these are dear to Her because of you. 

You need no word of mine to make you wise 

Who worship at her eyes 

And find there life and love forever new ! " 



39 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

To the white stars, 

Eternal and all-seeing, 

In their wide home beyond the wells of being, 

I said — "There is a little cloud that mars 

The mystical perfection of her kiss. 

Mine, mine, She is. 

As far as lip to lip, and heart to heart. 

And spirit to spirit when lips and hands must part. 

Can make her mine. But there is more than 

this, — 
More, more of Her to know. 
For still her soul escapes me unaware. 
To dwell in secret where I may not go. 
Take, and uplift me. Make me wholly Hers." 



40 



A Nocturne of Consecration 

Said the white stars, the heavenly ministers, — 

"This life is brief, but it is only one. 

Before to-morrow's sun 

For one or both of you it may be done. 

This love of yours is only just begun. 

Will all the ecstasy that may be won 

Before this life its little course has run 

At all suffice 

The love that agonizes in your eyes? 

Therefore be wise. 

Content you with the wonder of love that lies 

Between her lips and underneath her eyes. 

If more you should surprise, 

What would be left to hope from Paradise? 



41 



Neiv York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

In other worlds expect another joy 

Of Her, which blundering fate shall not annoy, 

Nor time nor change destroy." 

So, Dear, I talked the long, divine night through, 
And felt you in the chrismal balms of dew. 
The thing then learned 
Has ever since within my bosom burned — 
One life is not enough for love of you. 



42 



Other Poems 



An Evening Communion 

The large first stars come out 

Above the open hill, 
And in the west the light 

Is lingering still. 

The wide and tranquil air 
Of evening washes cool 

On open hill, and vale, 
And shining pool. 



45 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

The calm of endless time 

Is in the spacious hour, 
Whose mystery unfolds 

To perfect flower. 

The silence and my heart 
Expect a voice I know,^ — 

A voice we have not heard 
Since long ago. 

Since long ago thy face, 
Thy smile, I may not see. 

True comrade, whom the veil 
Divides from me. 



46 



An Evening Communion 

But when earth's hidden word 

I almost understand, 
I dream that on my lips 

I feel thy hand. 

Thy presence is the light 

Upon the open hill. 
Thou walkest with me here, 

True comrade still. 

My pain and my unrest 
Thou tak'st into thy care. 

The world becomes a dream, 
And life a prayer. 



47 



Life and Art 

Said Life to Art — "I love thee best 

Not when I find in thee 
My very face and form, expressed 

With dull fidelity, 

"But when in thee my craving eyes 

Behold continually 
The mystery of my memories 

And all I long to be." 



48 



Beyond the Tops of Time 

How long it was I did not know, 
That I had waited, watched, and feared. 

It seemed a thousand years ago 
The last pale lights had disappeared. 

I knew the place was a narrow room 

Up, up beyond the reach of doom. 

Then came a light more red than flame; — 
No sun-dawn, but the soul laid bare 

Of earth and sky and sea became 
A presence burning everywhere; 

And I was glad my narrow room 

Was high above the reach of doom. 



49 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

Windows there were in either wall, 
Deep cleft, and set with radiant glass, 

Wherethrough I watched the mountains fall, 
The ages wither up and pass. 

I knew their doom could never climb 

My tower beyond the tops of Time. 

A sea of faces then I saw, 

Of men who had been, men long dead. 
Figured with dreams of joy and awe 

The heavens unrolled in lambent red; 
While far below the faces cried — 
"Give us the dream for which we died!" 



50 



Beyond the Tops of Time 

Ever the woven shapes rolled by 

Above the faces hungering. 
With quiet and incurious eye 

I noted many a wondrous thing, — 
Seas of clear glass, and singing streams, 
In that high pageantry of dreams; 

Cities of sard and chrysoprase 
Where choired Hosannas never cease; 

Valhallas of celestial frays. 

And lotus-pools of endless peace; 

But still the faces gaped and cried — 

" Give us the dream for which we died ! " 



51 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

At length my quiet heart was stirred, 
Hearing them cry so long in vain. 

But while I listened for a word 

That should translate them from their pain, 

I saw that here and there a face 

Shone, and was lifted from its place. 

And flashed into the moving dome 

An ecstasy of prismed fire. 
And then said I, "A soul has come 

To the deep zenith of desire!" 
But still I wondered if it knew 
The dream for which it died was true. 



52 



Beyond the Tops of Time 

I wondered — who shall say how long? 

(One heart-beat? — Thrice ten thousand years?) 
Till suddenly there was no throng 

Of faces to arraign the spheres, — 
No more white faces there to cry 
To those great pageants of the sky. 

Then quietly I grew aware 

Of one who came with eyes of bliss 

And brow of calm and lips of prayer. 
Said I — "How wonderful is this! 

Where are the faces once that cried — 

'Give us the dream for which we died ' ? " 



53 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

The answer fell as soft as sleep, — 
"I am of those who, having cried 

So long in that tumultuous deep. 

Have won the dream for which we died." 

And then said I — "Which dream was true? 

For many were revealed to you!" 

He answered — "To the soul made wise 
All true, all beautiful they seem. 

But the white peace that fills our eyes 
Outdoes desire, outreaches dream. 

For we are come unto the place 

Where always we behold God's face!" 



54 



Dream-Fellows 

Behind the veil that men call sleep 
I came upon a golden land. 

A golden light was in the leaves 
And on the amethystine strand. 

Amber and gold and emerald 

The unimaginable wood. 
And in a joy I could not name 

Beside the emerald stream I stood. 



55 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

Down from a violet hill came one 
Running to meet me on the shore. 

I clasped his hand. He seemed to be 
One I had long been waiting for. 

All the sweet sounds I ever heard 
In his low greeting seemed to blend. 

His were the eyes of my true love. 
His was the mouth of my true friend. 

We spoke; and the transfigured words 
Meant more than words had ever meant. 

Our lips at last forgot to speak. 
For silence was so eloquent. 



56 



Dream-Fellows 

We floated in the emerald stream; 

We wandered in the wondrous wood. 
His soul to me was clear as light. 

My inmost thought he understood. 

Only to be was to be glad. 

Life, like a rainbow, filled our eyes. 
In comprehending comradeship 

Each moment seemed a Paradise. 

And often, in the after years, 
I and my dream-fellow were one 

For hours together in that land 
Behind the moon, beyond the sun. 



S7 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

At last, in the tumultuous dream 
That men call life, I chanced to be 

One day amid the city throng 
Where the great piers oppose the sea. 

A giant ship was swinging off 
For other seas and other skies. 

Amid the voyaging companies 
I saw his face, I saw his eyes. 

Oh, passionately through the crowd 
I thrust, and then — our glances met! 

Across the widening gulf we gazed. 

With white set lips, and eyes grown wet. 



58 



Dream-Fellows 

And all day long my heart was faint 
With parting pangs and tears unwept; 

Till night brought comfort, for he came 
To meet me, smiling, when I slept. 

Beyond the veil that men call sleep 
We met, within that golden land. 

He said — or I — "We grieved to-day. 
But now, more wise, we understand! 

"Communing in the common world, 
The flesh, for us, would be a bar. 

Strange would be our familiar speech; 
And earth would seem no more a star. 



59 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

"We'd know no more the golden leaves 

Beside the amethystine deep; 
We'd see no more each other's thought 

Behind the veil that men call sleep!" 



60 



The Atlantic Cable 

This giant nerve, at whose command 
The world's great pulses throb or sleep,- 

It threads the undiscerned repose 
Of the dark bases of the deep. 

Around it settle in the calm 

Fine tissues that a breath might mar, 
Nor dream what fiery tidings pass. 

What messages of storm and war. 



6x 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

Far over it, where filtered gleams 
Faintly illume the mid-sea day, 

Strange, pallid forms of fish or weed 
In the obscure tide softly sway. 

And higher, where the vagrant waves 
Frequent the white, indifferent sun. 

Where ride the smoke-blue hordes of rain 
And the long vapors lift and run, 

Passes perhaps some lonely ship 

With exile hearts that homeward ache, — 
While far beneath is flashed a word 

That soon shall bid them bleed or break. 



62 



When the Clover blooms again 

"When the clover blooms again, 
And the rain-birds in the rain 

Make the sad-heart noon seem sweeter 

And the joy of June completer 
I shall see his face again ! " 

Of her lover over sea 

So she whispered happily; 

And she prayed, while men were sleeping, 
"Mary, have him in thy keeping 

As he sails the stormy sea ! " 



63 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

White and silent lay his face 
In a still, green-watered place, 

Where the long, gray weed scarce lifted, 

And the sand was lightly sifted 
O'er his unremembering face. 



64 



At Tide Water 

The red and yellow of the Autumn salt-grass, 

The gray flats, and the yellow-gray full tide. 
The lonely stacks, the grave expanse of marshes, — 

O Land wherein my memories abide, 
I have come back that you may make me tranquil. 

Resting a little at your heart of peace. 
Remembering much amid your serious leisure. 

Forgetting more amid your large release. 
For yours the wisdom of the night and morning, 

The word of the inevitable years. 
The open Heaven's unobscured communion. 

And the dim whisper of the wheeling spheres. 



65 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poe^Jts 

The great things and the terrible I bring you, 

To be illumined in your spacious breath,— 
Love, and the ashes of desire, and anguish. 

Strange laughter, and the unhealing wound of 
death. 
These in the world, all these, have come upon me, 

Leaving me mute and shaken with surprise. 
Oh, turn them in your measureless contemplation, 

And in their mastery teach me to be wise. 



66 



The Falling Leaves 

Lightly He blows, and at His breath they fall, 

The perishing kindreds of the leaves; they drift, 
Spent flames of scarlet, gold aerial. 

Across the hollow year, noiseless and swift. 
Lightly He blows, and countless as the falling 

Of snow by night upon a solemn sea. 
The ages circle down beyond recalling, 

To strew the hollows of Eternity. 
He sees them drifting through the spaces dim, 

And leaves and ages are as one to Him. 



67 



Marjory 

(A Backwoods Ballad) 

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, 
Over the wild world rolls the year. 

Comes June to the rose-red tamarack buds. 
But Marjory comes not here. 

The pastures miss her; the house without her 
Grows forgotten, and gray, and old; 

The wind, and the lonely light of the sun, 
Are heavy with tears untold. 



68 



Marjory 

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, 

Morning, evening, over and o'er! 
The swallow returns to the nested rafter, 

But Marjory comes no more. 

The gray barn-doors in the long wind rattle 
Hour by hour of the long white day. 

The horses fret by the well-filled manger 
Since Marjory went away. 

The sheep she fed at the bars await her. 

The milch cows low for her down the lane. 
They long for her light, light hand at the milk- 
ing,— 

They long for her hand in vain. 



69 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, 

Morning and evening, over and o'er! 

The bees come back with the willow catkins, 
But Marjory comes no more. 

The voice of the far-off city called to her. 

Was it long years or an hour ago? 
She went away, with dear eyes weeping, 

To a world she did not know. 

The berried pastures they could not keep her. 
The brook, nor the buttercup-golden hill, 

Nor even the long, long love familiar, — 
The strange voice called her still. 



70 



Marjory 

She would not stay for the old home garden; 

The scarlet poppy, the mignonette, 
The fox-glove bell, and the kind-eyed pansy, 

Their hearts will not forget. 

Oh, that her feet had not forgotten 
The woodland country, the homeward way! 

Oh, to look out of the sad, bright window 
And see her come back, some day! 

Spring, summer, autumn, winter. 
Over the wild world rolls the year. 

Comes joy to the bird on the nested rafter; 
But Marjory comes not here. 



7« 



The Solitary Woodsman 

When the gray lake-water rushes 
Past the dripping alder bushes, 

And the bodeful autumn wind 
In the fir-tree weeps and hushes, — 

When the air is sharply damp 
Round the solitary camp, 

And the moose-bush in the thicket 
Glimmers like a scarlet lamp, — 



72 



The Solitary Woodsman 

When the birches twinkle yellow, 
And the cornel bunches mellow, 

And the owl across the twilight 
Trumpets to his downy fellow, — 

When the nut-fed chipmunks romp 
Through the maples' crimson pomp. 

And the slim viburnum flushes 
In the darkness of the swamp, — 

When the blueberries are dead. 
When the rowan clusters red, 

And the shy bear, summer-sleekened, 
In the bracken makes his bed, — 



73 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

On a day there comes once more 
To the latched and lonely door, 

Down the wood-road striding silent, 
One who has been here before. 

Green spruce branches for his head, 
Here he makes his simple bed. 

Couching with the sun, and rising 
When the dawn is frosty red. 

All day long he wanders wide 
With the gray moss for his guide, 

And his lonely axe- stroke startles 
The expectant forest-side. 



74 



The Solitary Woodsman 

Toward the quiet close of day 
Back to camp he takes his way, 
And about his sober footsteps 
Unafraid the squirrels play. 

On his roof the red leaf falls, 
At his door the blue-jay calls. 

And he hears the wood-mice hurry 
Up and down his rough log walls; 

Hears the laughter of the loon 
Thrill the dying afternoon, — 

Hears the calling of the moose 
Echo to the early moon. 



75 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

And he hears the partridge drumming, 
The belated hornet humming, — 

All the faint, prophetic sounds 
That foretell the winter's coming. 

And the wind about his eaves 
Through the chilly night-wet grieves, 

And the earth's dumb patience fills him. 
Fellow to the falling leaves. 



76 



The Stirrup Cup 

Life at my stirrup lifted wistful eyes, 

And as she gave the parting cup to me, — 
Death's pale companion for the silent sea, — 

"I know," she said, "that land and where it lies. 
A pledge between us now before you go, 
That when you meet me there your soul may 
know ! " 



77 



Ice 



When Winter scourged the meadow and the hill 
And in the withered leafage worked his will, 
The water shrank, and shuddered, and stood still, - 
Then built himself a magic house of glass, 
Irised with memories of flowers and grass. 
Wherein to sit and watch the fury pass. 



78 



The Hermit 

Above the blindness of content, 

The ignorance of ease, 
Inhabiting within his soul 

A shrine of memories. 

Between the silences of sleep 

Attentively he hears 
The endless crawling sob and strain, 

The spending of the years. 



79 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

He sees the lapsing stream go by 

His unperturbed face, 
Out of a dark, into a dark, 

Across a lighted space. 

He calls it Life, this lighted space 

Upon the moving flood. 
He sees the water white with tears. 

He sees it red with blood. 

And many specks upon the tide 
He sees and marks by name, — 

Motes of a day, and fools of Fate, 
And challengers of fame; 



80 



The Hermit 

With here a people, there a babe, 
A blossom, or a crown, — 

They whirl a little, gleam, and pass, 
Or in the eddies drown. 

He waits. He waits one day to see 
The lapsing of the stream. 

The eddying forms, the darknesses. 
Dissolve into a dream. 



8i 



)_1 JJ 



" O Thou who bidd'st 

O Thou who bidd'st a million germs decay 
That one white bloom may soar into the day, 
Mine eyes unseal to see their souls in death 
Borne back to Thee upon the lily's breath. 



83 



Ascription 

O Thou who hast beneath Thy hand 

The dark foundations of the land, 

The motion of whose ordered thought 
An instant universe hath wrought, 

Who hast within Thine equal heed 
The rolling sun, the ripening seed, 
The azure of the speedwell's eye. 
The vast solemnities of sky, — 



^ 



New York Nocturnes and Other Poems 

Who hear' St no less the feeble note 
Of one small bird's awakening throat, 
Than that unnamed, tremendous chord 
Arcturus sounds before his Lord, — 

More sweet to Thee than all acclaim 
Of storm and ocean, stars and flame, 
In favour more before Thy face 
Than pageantry of time and space, 

The worship and the service be 
Of him Thou madest most like Thee,— 
Who in his nostrils hath Thy breath. 
Whose spirit is the lord of death! 



84 



Set up by y. S. Cusbing fif Co., and printed by 
Berivick & Smithy at the Norioood PresSy for 
the publisbersy Lamsonj J/f^olffe & Co.y in the year 
Eighteen Hundred and Ninety-eight. * * * 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proc 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





014 529 005 3 



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